


What Could Have Been

by AsYouCommand (OminousHummingObelisk)



Series: Kibble & Bits & Bits & Bits [9]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anaesthesia - Freeform, Atheism, Damaged Self-Esteem, Gen, Mean Boss, Public Ridicule, body switching, tiny hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 11:59:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OminousHummingObelisk/pseuds/AsYouCommand
Summary: In which Rossum's Tarn frame design fails to satisfy Megatron's requirements. YOU HAD ONE JOB, ROSSUM.





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Original post from [smstransformers.tumblr.com](https://smstransformers.tumblr.com/post/163671075473/i-fucking-hate-this-scene-because-the-thing):  
> 
>
>>  _(Shows the MTMTE comic panel in which Tarn is leaning in toward Black Shadow and doing the "'I don't know,' I say, 'sounds a bit pretentious.'" section of his monologue.)_
>> 
>> I fucking hate this scene because the thing attached to the side of Tarn’s face looks like a tiny baby hand sliding down to stroke his chin 
>> 
>> _(And this observation is not incorrect.)_
> 
> I will certainly delete this piece if the original poster does not want it posted.

“The effect is going to be magnificent,” Megatron said. “We’re going to have a kill squad made up entirely of mecha with multiple powerful arms and terrifying hands who can rip the unjust apart. We’re naming them after the Five First Cities, but they’re sort of like an evil atheist Guiding Hand, which is why the hand thing is just brilliant.” 

“Your atheism is specifically evil?” Rossum asked. 

“No, I didn’t say that. You clearly heard me wrong." 

“…Of course, my lord.” 

“Anyway, the Helex and Tesarus designs are already perfect for the job, and I trust that your new Tarn design is going to fit right in. Tearing folks apart with sheer hand strength is the best possible way to show disapproval, and I’m ready to disapprove of a whole lot of people.” 

Rossum just kept furrowing his brow in deeper and deeper thought, tapping fingertips against his lips as if worried about what they might ask if left undefended. So…there was a hand thing. Like, a theme with many huge, strong hands all along. That was a thing that Megatron was purposely after. That…hmm. Tap tap tap on the lips. 

Lobe walked out of the operating theater, wiping new body grease off of his hands. “He’s taking well to the reframe, my lord. We’ll be tracking his integration for the next few weeks, but I’d say we’re essentially done here.” 

“How are his, ah, secondary hands functioning?” Rossum slid in. 

“Perfectly,” Lobe replied, looking puzzled. “One of the first of the new systems to come fully online. He’s been using them ever since he came out of sedation.” 

“Finally!” Megatron did not precisely squee. “The leader of my mighty DJD is complete! So many years of engineering, so much money poured into this project, and at last your masterwork will be revealed!!” 

“My lord, maybe we shouldn’t -–” 

“I was right to place all of my trust in your genius, Rossum! Come, let me see the horror you have wrought for my cause!!” Rossum reached feebly for the warlord, as if he could somehow hold Megatron back from brushing past Lobe and into the recovery room. 

Damus - now officially Tarn - was sitting on the side of the med slab, apparently delighted by his huge armored feet and clearly still shaking off the knockout patch. He looked up as his master arrived, radiating perfect joy. “’S amazing! Everything I ever dreamed of! Can’t wait to begin working!! Look at all this ankle articulation.” He swayed dopily in place, gazing as his feet as he drew slow circles with his toes. “Woah, the pattern on those tiles…woah. Is that asbestos? Woah.” 

Megatron was examining his supersoldier critically from across the room, clearly not seeing something that he expected to see. He squinted, as if the missing thing might simply be out of focus. Surely it was there somewhere. Rossum crept into the room behind him and tried to think of a way to not die. “Um…well, do take note of the advanced mask-retention systems, which were a very high priority to the patient and required revolutionary engin–” 

“’S held on with MAGNETS!” Tarn explained. “‘N latches! Anna triple failsafe: TINY HANDS. Looklooklook.” A no-slag, actual ittybitty hand lifted up from his cheek, where it had been gripping the edge of the mask, and it wiggled its adorable, stumpy digits in the cutest, tiniest, most very smollest wave ever performed in the Decepticon uprising. Lobe actually went _awww_ before Rossum elbowed him hard in the chestplate. 

Megatron turned his shellshocked gaze on his pet geniuses. “The…huge extra arms. For crushing traitors. They…are in there. Somewhere. They fold out of the back or something. Correct?” The air temperature was starting to plunge. 

“ _Huge_ extra arms?” Lobe wondered before Rossum jabbed him again. 

“Ah, lord, the theoretical giant destroying arm system had to be scrapped at the last minute to free up energy resources for the, uh, integrated ranged weaponry systems which we’ll be installing within the day -–” 

“IS IT A FUSION CANNON?” Tarn asked hopefully. 

“I, well - yes. A fusion cannon? We can do that. _Did_ that. It’s prepped at this very moment.” Megatron’s glare pierced even deeper. 

“Can I have… _TWO_ FUSION CANNONS?” Tarn pleaded. 

Rossum’s smile was rigid in the face of his impeding doom. “Uh, yes, that was part of the surprise. Two fusion cannons on one platform for double the carnage. Dismemberment all over the place. More than you can get with giant hands.” 

Megatron’s voice was strangled with rage. “My unit symbolism. My psychological warfare.” 

“HEY CAN I CHANGE SHAPE IN THIS THING.” There were sounds of Tarn falling off the edge of the slab, hitting the floor, and transforming in surprise. “Oooo. That feels…wow, that feels so really good. Oooh.” 

Lobe shrugged carelessly. “Well, we can put him back under, pull the brain module and spark, have him in whiteout storage in under an hour. Melt down this frame to recycle the rare components; that’ll save some money when we build the next one. Rossum and I can mainline stimulants and just stop recharging, so that’ll get a new design out by the end of the week, and with build time and components factored in, we’re talking…two years and fifty million shanix should get him in another frame that’s up to spec. Just give the word.” 

“HEY CAN I CHANGE SHAPE AGAIN OR IS THAT WEIRD,” Tarn asked urgently. 

Megatron was growling and making aborted murdering gestures with his hands, but in the face of cruel facts, he chose the option that would get traitors dead faster. He turned to the terrifying incarnation of Decepticon justice down on the floor. “Tarn. You will - _you will stop doing that immediately and never do it again._ ” Tarn had been caressing his handsome new mask with his teeny tiny hands. They twitched guiltily and clamped back into place. “You will still be the purest force of discipline and fear within our movement. Somehow.” Tarn gave him such a sad tank look, as if he knew that he would never be loved again. “No, we will move past this and make it work, trust me. Get the fusion cannons installed; the extra one will balance out the fact that you have…those things. Don’t focus on close-range combat. Just…do that party trick that you do, the thing where you make people’s sparks explode with your voice. That’ll hold until we think of something better.” Tarn sighed adoringly as he sponged up every last droplet of his lord’s will and sucked it deep into the hot, moist core of his priority tree. 

Megatron turned to Rossum. “I see that I will have to be more involved in your design process in the future. Starting with the phase six project, perhaps. Or is there something wrong with that one too?” 

“No, lord!” Rossum declared, high on the realization that he was probably going to live. “Overlord is on site. I can have him sedated in ten minutes and I’ll strip him to his endoskeleton with my own hands and a crowbar. He can be in the tank in half an hour.” 

“And the tank is transparent so that I can take pictures and have a giggle at his expense while he writhes around naked, correct?” 

“Absolutely, my lord.” They’d had to sacrifice some of the structural integrity for that, but what could possibly go wrong? 

“Have him in the tank in twenty minutes. No excuses. And Rossum?” 

“Yes, lord?” 

“Step up construction on my giant purple griffon. Spare no expense.” 

“…Yes, lord.” 

And Megatron stormed out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Gee, ~~Bill~~ TARN, how come your ~~mom~~ MASTER lets you ~~eat~~ EROTICALLY EQUIP two ~~wieners~~ FUSION CANNONS?  
>  \- [NO ~~SKINS~~ INDEPENDENT IDENTITY! ^n^](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/gee-bill-how-come-your-mom-lets-you-eat-two-wieners)


End file.
